By the time Qin Yao woke, Lin Xiao had already left for the palace. Aunt Wen had already laid out a steaming hot breakfast, and from the outer room came wafts of fragrance now and then, making her mouth water.

Hearing movement in the room, Aunt Wen and Cai Ping knew Qin Yao had woken, and quickly led a group of maids in to attend to her washing and dressing.

As Qin Yao wished, breakfast was set on the table by the window. The window was open, and the air outside was cool, damp, and carried the faint drift of floral fragrance.

Qin Yao took a sip of soup and looked up to see the plum branches outside the window covered in droplets, and the camellias beneath the veranda had withered considerably overnight as well. She thought to herself, could it have rained? Cai Ping understood what she meant and quickly said, “It rained during the latter half of the night and didn’t stop until this morning.” Qin Yao nodded — she had slept so deeply the night before that she hadn’t heard a single sound.

With each autumn rain came another chill, and it was already plain that deep autumn had arrived — thin clothing could no longer be worn. Aunt Wen draped a thick, moon-white half-sleeve jacket trimmed with pearl thread over Qin Yao’s goose-yellow short tunic skirt before finally letting her go to Libai Residence to pay respects to her father-in-law.

Prince Lan had already risen and was strolling in the courtyard before his hall, reciting aloud from a collection of poetry that a guest skilled in verse had compiled for him a few days prior.

Since the courtyard ground was still wet, Prince Lan wore wooden clogs on his feet and had a half-worn jacket draped loosely over his shoulders, head held high as he recited with an air of unrestrained elegance. Seen from a distance, he did indeed bear something of the look of a refined man of letters.

Prince Lan had already heard about the affair on Shouhuai Mountain. Naturally, he had been quite shocked at first, but once he learned that the Emperor and Lin Xiao were unharmed, he had set the matter aside at once and never asked after it again. Now, seeing Qin Yao come to pay her respects, he asked her a few casual questions, but they were all rather superficial, clearly showing he had no intention of pressing into the details.

Qin Yao had only just answered a few of his questions when Prince Lan’s attention began to wander. Seeing this, she obediently fell silent and took her leave from Libai Residence.

On her way back she sighed inwardly — her father-in-law’s temperament, put kindly, was that of someone who paid no mind to worldly affairs beyond his own door; put less kindly, it was simply too cold and indifferent. No wonder Lin Xiao, though not yet twenty, was so steady and decisive — it was likely only because, with a father like this and his mother having passed away so early, he had no one to rely on and had to make every decision for himself.

Once outside the outer courtyard, Chang Rong was waiting with Wei Bo and seven other hidden guards.

Caught off guard at the sight of eight burly men lined up at the gate, Qin Yao gave a start. Just as she was about to ask why so many had been sent, the thought struck her — it was likely because, after the incident of her falling off the cliff, Lin Xiao remained shaken and had assigned every one of his hidden guards to her side.

Chang Rong had been blaming himself these past two days for failing to protect Qin Yao that night. Seeing her come out, filled with shame and regret, he didn’t dare meet her eyes openly as he usually did. He merely bowed solemnly to her in greeting, then silently retreated to one side.

Watching this, Qin Yao felt a deep unease in her heart. Though what happened that night had certainly left her shaken, the old saying held true — there had never been a thief caught for a thousand years, but never a guard who could prevent theft for a thousand years either. Since the culprit had already set their mind on harming her, no matter how carefully Chang Rong and the others guarded her, that person would always find an opening eventually.

Nothing in this world was worse than baseless blame and misplaced anger.

She quickly smiled and said, “Good. As it happens, I need to go to Qingyun Temple today. I’d actually been a bit afraid to go out, but since you’ll all be with me, I can leave with confidence now.”

She knew that the only way to ease the knot in Chang Rong’s heart was to let him recognize his own worth again.

Chang Rong felt a slight jolt in his heart — the young madam’s smile was open and bright, her face full of trust, just like the young master’s; there wasn’t the slightest hint of blame in her at all.

His gaze fell involuntarily on the young madam’s hands, still wrapped in thick bandages — clearly the injuries had been severe. His heart twisted with discomfort, and he quickly straightened his posture and said, “Very well, I’ll go make preparations right away.”

Qin Yao smiled faintly, and remembering something, called Chang Rong back. “Where is Madam Zhou now?”

Chang Rong paused briefly, then quickly replied, “Yesterday the young master had her settled in the West Courtyard.”

So Lin Xiao had already brought her to the residence. Qin Yao nodded and said to Chang Rong, “Good. In a moment I’ll be taking Madam Zhou along with me to Qingyun Temple.”

She led Cai Ping and the others toward the West Courtyard.

Madam Zhou had already finished tidying herself, but not understanding why she had been brought to such a grand princely residence, she sat uneasily in the side chamber.

Seeing Qin Yao enter the courtyard surrounded by a crowd of attendants, Madam Zhou only then realized that the young Daoist woman was the mistress of Prince Lan’s household. Both startled and delighted, she hurried forward and bowed deeply to Qin Yao, saying, “Thank you, Daoist Mistress, for the gift of my life renewed.”

Unable to bring herself to tell her of her family’s tragic fate, Qin Yao simply took her hand and had her sit down nearby, then asked in detail about Madam Zhou’s experience in the demon’s cave over the past two months.

Her questions were phrased delicately, but Madam Zhou was an exceedingly sharp woman, and she understood Qin Yao’s meaning at once. Though her face couldn’t help but flush slightly, she shook her head firmly and said, “That monster only abducted me into the cave and had that four-legged lizard guard me — it never violated me.”

Qin Yao wasn’t surprised. A creature like the giant scorpion, with over a thousand years of cultivation behind it, had long transcended the seven emotions and six desires. Though it had cultivated a human form, it wouldn’t ordinarily be driven by lust — which meant its abduction of these people must have had some other purpose.

She asked again, “Madam Zhou, could you tell me everything the creature did in the cave over these past two months, in detail?”

Although Madam Zhou appeared delicate and beautiful on the outside, her true temperament was resilient — otherwise, having been held captive in the cave by that demon for so long, she would surely have been frightened out of her wits, and could never have remained as calm and composed as she did now.

Hearing Qin Yao’s question, she drew two deep breaths and carefully recalled, “That day my husband and I were traveling with our family from Dingzhou to Chang’an. We passed by Wutou Mountain when suddenly sand and stones flew up and the sky darkened. After that, that creature dragged me out of our carriage. The thing was so terrifying that I fainted on the spot. When I woke again, I was in a cave beneath a cliff. When that monster saw I’d woken, it simply had the four-legged lizard watch over me. At first I assumed I was certainly going to die, but after that, the lizard would bring me wild fruit to eat now and then — it almost seemed afraid I might starve to death.”

“After that, the devilish thing went on to abduct two more young women, one after another. The one who came later had an injury on her back, and when the creature saw it, it gathered some herbs from somewhere and applied them to her — but the effect was minimal, and the wound kept seeping blood.”

Qin Yao nodded inwardly — that explained the matter of the river-deer spirit being sent into Chang’an to buy medicine. It seemed that even after the river-deer spirit had been caught, the Ghost Swordsman had simply sent another demon to buy medicine instead.

“A few nights ago, on the fifteenth,” Madam Zhou hesitated for a moment, then looked at Qin Yao and added, “I’m guessing it was the fifteenth, because the moon was especially full that night. That devilish thing hadn’t been seen for quite a few days, but that night it suddenly appeared and dragged the three of us together down to the base of the cliff, forcing us to kneel. The thing itself stood behind us, raised both hands toward the sky, and muttered something under its breath — I don’t know what it was trying to do. After chanting like that several times, the thing went into a frenzy for some reason, raging wildly at the base of the cliff and shattering several massive boulders, before finally wrapping the three of us up and throwing us back into the cave. One of the young women with us, surnamed Liu, was nearly frightened into fainting.”

Listening, Qin Yao’s heart skipped with alarm — could this creature have been trying to set up a formation array? But whether Buddhist or Daoist, every formation array required either pure yin or pure yang, and she’d never heard of a precedent for using a married woman in such an array. Could it be that the scorpion spirit’s plan had failed precisely because Madam Zhou had been included among them?

She glanced quietly at Madam Zhou — she had already given birth to several children and was at least in her thirties at the youngest, but because she was so extraordinarily beautiful, she looked no older than her early twenties. If not for the married woman’s bun she wore, one would never easily guess her status as a wife and mother. It seemed that, however many years the scorpion spirit had cultivated, it was after all a demonic creature — how could it possibly understand the subtle distinctions of mortal social customs?

But why had the scorpion spirit suddenly appeared in the mortal world, and why had it wanted to set up a formation array? She pondered it for a while, but her thoughts were a tangled mess, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t untangle a clear line of reasoning.

Unable to sit still any longer, she was eager to go to Qingyun Temple to get to the bottom of it, but thinking of how Madam Zhou still didn’t know the truth, she couldn’t help but hesitate.

But to keep concealing and delaying things any longer would be like death by a thousand slow cuts for Madam Zhou — far too unfair to her.

She gritted her teeth quietly, took Madam Zhou’s hand, and helped her rise, saying, “Let me take you to see someone.”

On the way to Qingyun Temple, Madam Zhou seemed to sense something, growing unusually silent.

Qin Yao noticed this and sighed quietly to herself — a parting of life and death like this was, for anyone, an obstacle in fate nearly impossible to cross. Even one of great wisdom couldn’t escape sorrow and grief, let alone a couple as devoted to one another as the Zhous.

She took Madam Zhou’s hand and asked in a deliberately casual tone, “Do you still have other family back home? Did everyone come to Chang’an together this time?”

By this point Madam Zhou’s heart was already in a state of desolate dread, though without having seen anything with her own eyes, she simply refused to let her mind go there. Hearing Qin Yao’s question, she said, “We also have an elder daughter, fourteen this year. Since my husband and I have always been busy with our trade, we sent her to live with her maternal grandmother in Cangzhou. Thinking the journey to Chang’an would be too far and exhausting for her, we didn’t bring her along this time — we planned to settle in first and then go fetch her.”

The suffocating tightness in Qin Yao’s chest finally eased somewhat — at least Madam Zhou still had family left. And children had always been their parents’ deepest attachment; even amid the worst grief, surely Madam Zhou would manage to go on living well, for the sake of her daughter.

When they reached Qingyun Temple, a few monks from Dayin Temple were standing at the gate. Seeing them, Qin Yao guessed that Yuan Jue was likely inside. Her heart stirred, and she had Chang Rong and the others wait outside the temple while she led Madam Zhou to the back courtyard herself.

In the courtyard were only Fuyuan and A’Han — somehow one of them had gotten hold of a kickball, and the two of them were in the middle of playing.

Seeing her senior brother playing until he was drenched in sweat, Qin Yao couldn’t help but recall how, when they were children, her master had often bought him shadow puppets, little wooden figures, and the like. Truly, however moody and unpredictable her master could be, he had always treated her senior brother with nothing but kindness.

A’Han and Fuyuan looked up, and seeing Qin Yao, were overjoyed and quickly moved to greet her, but Qin Yao made a hushing gesture for silence. She had Madam Zhou wait a moment at the courtyard gate, then steadied her own breathing and, taking great care to make no sound, crept low and hid beneath the window of her master’s room.

Sure enough, from inside came her master’s voice, straining hard to suppress his anger: “No wonder it’s taken so long and we still couldn’t catch that thing! So it was you deliberately letting it slip away!”

He paused for a moment, seeming to grow more certain the more he thought about it, and gave a cold laugh. “Heh. Worthy of a man of the Buddhist faith — neither catching it, nor letting it carry people off. Aside from that night when you took your disciples out of the city and accidentally let that thing carry off Imperial Physician Liu’s daughter, in all this time only three people in total have gone missing. Given that creature’s level of cultivation, if you hadn’t been deliberately holding it in check, who knows how many it would have taken! But since you already knew that thing was on Shouhuai Mountain, why didn’t you find some way to warn my disciple beforehand? Do you realize that wasn’t the only person on that mountain that day — my disciple was there too! Fine, if you want to put someone at risk, that’s your business — but what if, through some careless mishap, she had been devoured by that thing as well?”

Yuan Jue’s voice, unruffled and calm: “After all these years of training under you, if she still can’t even protect herself, then she doesn’t deserve to call herself a Daoist.”

Qing Xuzi choked on his words for a moment, then let out a string of cold laughs. “At this point, I can no longer tell whether you’re a man of Buddha or a devil. How many people were on that mountain? Did every single one of them deserve to die? Aren’t you even afraid that—”

He suddenly stopped short — something came flying straight at the window. “Who’s there?!”

Qin Yao’s body sprang back, narrowly dodging it. Though her heart was a churning storm of waves, on her face she put on the look of someone who had just arrived, calling out loudly, “Master, I’ve come to see you — open the door!”

Her hands, however, wouldn’t stop trembling.